


Keep On Walking 'Till I Get Me Home

by lifeofsnark



Series: Going Over Home 'Verse [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, He meets Ygritte in the winter camp, In which Ygritte is my girl crush, Jon hears that Winterfell has been taken by the Boltons and goes to investigate, Jon is a fur trapper in Canada, Jon loses his virginity, Just... porn, Set in the 1860s, Then they go to look for Sansa, There is LOTS OF SEX, Threesome, Voyeurism, Ygritte is just like... a sexual dynamo, sex outside
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-02-26 09:17:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13232700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeofsnark/pseuds/lifeofsnark
Summary: Jon and Ygritte's story in the Going Over Home 'Verse. You don't need to have read that one to understand this story, but it'll help.1860s. Jon, the Bastard of Winterfell, left several years ago to work the trapping trails with Uncle Benjen. He meets Ygritte at the winter camp and they are married out under the stars as the Old Gods would have wanted. When Jon hears that the Boltons have taken Winterfell he and Ygritte start walking south, determined to find out what happened to his home and sister.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The story title is taken from "Hold Me, Rock Me," which has absolutely beautiful lyrics. You should look them up.

The winter camp was always a shock to Jon. He and Benjen would be along in the wilderness for months, going days and days without ever seeing even a sign of other human life. They would listen to the music of the woods- the wind through bare branches, the scurry of a red squirrel over bark, the soft rush of a half-frozen waterfall, cryastalline in its glory. 

 

After that, the trapper’s camp was a roar of noise that made Jon’s ears ring. It smelled of smoke and cooking food and half-cured animal skins and unwashed men. The tents were low and round, usually constructed of quilted hides or dirty canvas and covered in snow. Fires shone bright in the perpetual darkness, and there was always  _ noise.  _

 

Jon had seen Ygritte for the first time at one of these winter camps three years ago. She’d been there with her father Mance, a sort-of friend of Benjen. The camps usually lasted three or four weeks, and they weren’t large enough for people to avoid each other. They’d spoken briefly while her father talked with Uncle Benjen-  _ hello how are you what’s your name _ \- and that had been the sum total of their interactions that year. 

 

The next year the camp had been larger and centered around a series of natural hot springs. It had been an eerie camp; steam curled around and through the tents, mingling with pipeweed and the smoke of the campfires. It had made everything hazy and warm.

 

That second year Jon saw far more of Ygritte than he’d expected. He’d risen early (although early was relative when the sun never rose) and had crept off to one of the springs to bathe in privacy. 

 

Privacy was another thing that didn’t happen in the camp. Trappers spent eleven months of the on their own. The idea of manners and propriety fell away quickly when you didn’t have anyone on whom to practice them. Very few women came to the trappers camp, but those that did had typically been raised around trappers or in native villages. They could frequently be found in the laps of their men, and it wasn’t uncommon for them to couple with their men even when they shared a tent. Jon expected that now; he expected to witness one or two coupling between the trail wives and their men. 

 

He hadn’t expected to see two women coupling with each other. 

 

Jon hadn’t realized it was Ygritte at first. He’d just seen one woman sitting on the edge of the springs with someone else’s head buried between her thighs. Ygritte had lifted her head to kiss the brunette woman’s hip and he’d seen that swirl of red hair and the pointed, foxy chin and had known who she was. He’d turned away and hurried to an unoccupied pool, but he could feel Ygritte’s eyes boring into the back of his head. 

 

Jon had spent the next year thinking of Ygritte and her brown-haired lover. He hadn’t known that women did that, he hadn’t known it could be done. Whenever Benjen left him alone for a day or two to check one snare line while Benjen checked another Jon would spend the evenings on his back wondering what a woman tasted like there, wondering about Ygritte. Often he would take himself in hand, but sometimes he was content just to wonder. 

 

This year, though, this third year, Mance was missing. Benjen asked around but Mance was nowhere to be seen. Jon was disappointed. He’d wanted another glimpse of Ygritte. 

 

_ That was stupid  _ he told himself. He knew what he was giving up when he went with Benjen into the wilderness of the north. Trappers couldn’t have wives and families because they didn’t have homes. They walked paths unseen by men, they slept in caves and bushes and sometimes trees. Babes couldn’t be brought into that world. 

 

Jon saw Ygritte on the second day of the camp. This site was along a string of low, rolling mountains. There was a great, interconnected cave system, and though it was still bitterly cold, the wind didn’t cut through the skins and canvases of the tent underground. She was in a cavern one over from Jon and Benjen’s talking to another of the trail wives. Jon immediately wondered if this was her new lover. 

 

Benjen waited for Ygritte to finish her conversation before walking up and greeting her. “Where’s Mance this year?” he asked when the niceties had been seen to. 

 

Ygritte shrugged. “He went off sometime in the summer to check the lines. When he was a week late getting back I went after him, but haven’t seen him since. Part of he was hoping he’d be here with one of you.”

 

“You’ve been on your own since summer?” Jon asked, rather stunned. She was so small, her bones finely knit. How had something so seemingly frail lasted more than half the year on her own?

 

Ygritte scowled at Jon. “Yes, my poor wee self somehow survived on my own. I’ve been walking the trails far longer than you, my boy.”

 

Benjen sent Jon a look. “Where was he when he went missing?” he asked Ygritte. 

 

She told him, and soon Benjen and Jon were walking back to their shelter. Benjen looked worried. “That’s the second trapper that’s gone missing around there. It’s prime beaver ground, but…” he trailed off and was quiet that night around the great communal campfire. 

 

In the end, Benjen went missing along that same plot of land. He and Jon had gone together, and Uncle Benjen had even said that he thought they were far enough from the disappearance site to be safe. 

 

Jon had looked for weeks without finding a trace of him. 

 

That was the first winter camp Jon had had to find on his own. 

 

Eventually he found it in a deep patch of woods far past where man usually lived. He could see the flickering glow of their great campfires for miles; that was always how trappers found the winter camp. He walked and walked, and made it a good ways into the camp before someone greeted him. 

 

“Where’s Benjen?” someone called. Jon paused to tell the story of Benjen’s disappearance, and a small crowd had gathered by the time he was done. 

 

“Not good,” one man said. 

 

“Fucking terrifying,” another said, puffing out a cloud of pipe smoke. 

 

“We should look, all together like, in the spring,” the first man suggested. 

 

The general consensus was  _ no fucking way.  _ Jon was patted on the shoulder and nodded to mumbled condolences as the group disbanded to return to their shelters and fires. Jon noticed Ygritte standing on the edge of the crowd, watching him. 

 

“He went looking, didn’t he?” she asked in her lilting voice. 

 

Jon bristled- was she blaming Benjen for being killed?

 

“No. We were trapping at least ten miles from where you said Mance disappeared.”

 

Ygritte just shrugged. “I guess it’s more dangerous than we thought.” 

 

There was an awkward pause, and then Ygritte grabbed Jon’s sleeve and tugged him a bit. “C’mon, you. Let’s talk.”

 

Jon wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to Ygritte, but he  _ did  _ desperately want to talk to someone. It had been months since he’d seen another person, and it was so  _ wonderful  _ to hear someone’s voice besides his own. 

 

Ygritte led him out of camp and up one of the rolling, tree-covered hills. She quietly helped Jon shrug out of his pack and expertly made a snow-proof nest of oilskins and furs. Ygritte sat down and he hovered awkwardly until she grabbed him.

 

Jon and Ygritte sat cocooned in a pile of furs and blankets and watched the lights dance in the sky. 

 

“My father called these the spirit lights,” Jon said. “He said our ancestors watched over us and guarded us from the Long Dark of the winter.”

 

“My father called them the Merry Dancers, or the Dragon’s Flame,” said Ygritte, leaning into Jon. “I don’t care what they are- I just think they’re magic.”

 

Jon didn’t believe in magic, but sometimes on long nights like this when the snow reflected green and purple back at the sky like a prism, well- Jon found a place for speculation. 

 

Ygritte kissed Jon then, butterfly light. Jon just looked down at her, stupefied. “I thought you liked girls,” he blurted out. It was the first thing on his mind, he’d assumed that she saw him as a friend and nothing more. 

 

“I do,” said Ygritte, kissing him again. “But I like boys, too.” Another kiss. “What I like most of all,” Ygritte said as she moved in his lap, “Are pretty things. Stones that shine, a bit of lace, a trinket someone else has lost. And you,” she whispered, “Certainly seem to be lost.”

 

Jon swallowed thickly. “We shouldn’t,” he said. 

 

“Why?” asked Ygritte, her fingers trying to shape Jon through the thick layers he wore. 

 

“What if there’s a babe?”

 

It was one of Jon’s biggest fears. He’d been loved as a child, he knew that. His father- well, technically his uncle- had called Jon  _ son  _ and showed him the same quiet love as all of the other children. Arya had adored him, and he’d adored her too. Even Sansa, in her prissy way, had included him just like Robb. It had only been Cat that had watched him from the corner of her eye. The church biddies would whisper too, just often enough to never let him forget. He was the bastard of Winterfell, and he didn’t want another babe to go through that. 

 

“He will be strong, like his parents,” said Ygritte, opening Jon’s smalls. 

 

Jon took the offensive, it would be the only way to keep his sanity. Ygritte was up on her knees above him so Jon grabbed the material of her leggings and yanked them down to her knees. There was only a pale strip of skin showing between the hem of her coats and the top of her leggings, but it was still enough to make Jon intensely, throbbingly hard. 

 

He  tossed himself down and insinuated his face up under her tunic. He kissed her (he thought it was her stomach) and he felt Ygritte draw the furs around herself. 

 

Jon tried to nose into Ygritte’s cleft, but he would have had to break his neck to do it effectively. Instead he flipped onto his back and began to tentatively touch the patch of hot, damp curls he’d found. He parted her and ran one finger down her slit. She moved with the finger, so Jon tried it again. 

 

Ygritte’s mittened hand grabbed Jon’s wrist and guided him forward. “Here,” she said, though the command was muffled. He traced a little nubbin he found there, and Ygritte rubbed back. Tentatively he put his mouth over the nub and he felt Ygritte stiffen and then relax at the contact. He wasn’t sure what to do, so he licked and sucked, a little lost, until he fell into a rhythm that had Ygritte moving her cunny against his face. 

 

She smelled musky and smoky and salty and just a little bit sweet. He decided he liked it, though thinking  _ anything  _ was hard as cock felt like it was going to rocket off of his body. 

 

With a moan Ygritte started to shudder. She got even wetter than she had been, and her hands clamped around his ears to hold him tightly to her. 

 

When she was done Jon let himself fall back to the patch of snow he was lying in. Ygritte fell off him and wriggled herself around so she could lay half on top of him. 

 

“Is that normal?” Jon asked. “That bit at the end, where you shake?”

 

Ygritte propped herself up on his chest. “Have you not been with a girl before?” she asked. When he shook his head  _ no  _ she started to grin. “Have you been with a boy, then?” 

 

Jon jumped. “No!” 

 

“You’re a  _ maid,”  _ she said, a dangerous grin spreading over her features. 

 

“I’m a trapper,” Jon mumbled, aware that that wasn’t a satisfactory answer. 

 

“We can take care of that,” she purred.

 

She shimmied around under the firs, likely working her way out of her boots and leggings. She kneed Jon once and managed to knock him in  the chin with the crown of her head, but eventually she had her trousers off and Jon’s cock out. 

 

“People can see us!” Jon protested.

 

“Aye, they’ll see us. They’ll see that I’ve taken you as my man-” she took a firm grip on his aching erection- “and you’re taking me as your lady-” here she slid over him once more “-and we’re joining under the stars as the gods wanted.” 

 

She slid down on him then, a wet heat that had Jon’s balls rising up and his breath coming fast. Eventually he was totally consumed by her perfect pussy and he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to tear himself away from her. 

 

And then Ygritte started to move. Her hips rubbed against his, forward and back, and it felt like- well, it felt like something Jon couldn’t even have imagined. Her face was over his, her hair falling over her shoulder and her cheeks flushed a pale pink. She was beautiful, and above her the lights danced and the stars shone bright and pure. 

 

“Ygritte-” he groaned out.

 

“It’s okay, Jon Stark,” she whispered, and then his balls were drawing up and he was grabbing her hips to hold her against him and he was spilling himself into her wet, perfect heat.

 

They lay together in their nest of furs. At first it was quiet, but then Ygritte was thrashing around, trying to get back into her leggings. 

 

“What are you doing?” Jon asked, propping himself up on his elbow. 

 

“You know nothing, do you? I’m all sticky, you looby. I’m going to get some warm water to wash off.”

 

Melting snow was trapper basics. As soon as a fire was made you started to melt snow down to water. Snow could be eaten, of course it could be, but warm water meant cleanliness and coffee and soup. 

 

“I’ll get it,” Jon offered. He tucked his now-soft cock back into his trousers and pulled a flannel out of his pack. He dunked it into the water, wrung it out, and took it back to Ygritte. Once he was cocooned in their pile of furs she tried to take the rag from him. 

 

“I want to do it,” Jon said, holding the rag away from her. “I want to see.”

 

Ygritte sighed with mild exasperation but lay back. Jon pulled back the furs just enough that he could see a flash of skin. This would have to be quick; even for those used to the cold this was extreme. 

 

Her mons were covered with deep red curls that looked black in the half-light of the wintery north. Her slit was damp, and when he pressed the rag against it the lips parted to reveal the delicate skin inside. 

 

“You’re soft,” he commented. He knew he sounded like an absolute moron, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. 

 

“Aye,” Ygritte said, her voice lazy. “Girls are wonderfully soft.”

 

Jon finished his work and tossed the rag back towards the fire. He would thaw it out later. Ygritte wiggled back into her trousers.

 

“We should go back to our shelters,” Jon said after they’d lain together for a minute. “I don’t want to wake up without my nose.”

 

“And such a pretty nose it is,” Ygritte said, running her index finger along it.

 

“Men aren’t pretty,” Jon griped. 

 

“Handsome, then” Ygritte said in the voice of one indulging a recalcitrant child. “Though I do find you pretty.  I like pretty things.”

 

She sat up and began to lace on her boots beneath the furs. “Come on then,” she said. “We should sleep indoors.”

 

They gathered up the furs and walked back down the hill to the camp. Ygritte’s shelter was in the center of camp, and Jon noticed people watching them walk through. 

 

As they neared Ygritte’s tent Jon felt a heavy hand fall on his shoulder. “What did you do, boy?” asked a man with a wild red beard and crazy blue eyes. “Have you touched the lass?”

 

Jon didn’t know what to say, but he certainly wasn’t about to apologize for what they’d done. 

 

“Leave off, Tormund,” Ygritte called. “I like this one.”

 

The bearded man grinned. “Good on you, lad. If you need any help figuring things out, I’ll be over there.” He jerked his thumb towards a larger shelter with smoke curling from the domed roof.  He winked, and walked away. 

 

“Who was that?” Jon asked. “You know him?”

 

“I trapped with him some this summer,” Ygritte said, ducking into the flap of her shelter. 

 

“Why did you keep trapping?” Jon asked, laying down the furs he’d been carrying. 

 

“What else was I going to do?” asked Ygritte, sitting down and tugging off her boots. “Go live somewhere down south and sew myself pretty dresses? ‘Oh, la sir, how fine I look’,” she pantomimed, fluttering her eyelashes dramatically. 

 

“You know what I mean,” Jon said, tugging his boots off as well. They slid back under the furs, and Jon pulled Ygritte into the curve of his body. She fit there, he thought. He liked the way she fit. 

 

“What would I have done? No proper southern man would have me. I don’t pray to their god or follow their laws. We have no laws here,” she said. 

 

That seemed true to Jon. He couldn’t imagine this wild woman yoking herself to some plowman. 

 

“Why were you a maid?” asked Ygritte. “Were southern girls really so bad?”

 

Jon thought about that for a minute. “They weren’t bad, not really. Most of them are very proper. The ones who aren’t proper, they, uh, they take coin. My brother Theon, he showed me a place where I could pay a lady to, uh… I didn’t want to.”

 

“Why?” asked Ygritte. “It’s a fair trade.”

 

“I don’t think so,” Jon’s mouth said before his brain had caught back up. He thought on that a little and then said, “I don’t think it’s fair. Most of those women didn’t want to take up that profession, at least I don’t think they wanted to, and besides, what if my seed took? I couldn’t do that to a son of mine.”

 

“Or a daughter,” commented Ygritte. “It could be a daughter.”

 

Somehow Jon thought that would be worse. “Aye,” he said. “It could be a daughter.”

 

“I won’t have your babe,” she said after a long pause in which Jon had assumed she’d fallen asleep. “Not if you don’t wish it.”

 

“What do you mean? Babes come or they don’t, there isn’t much man can do about it… or is there?” he asked, hope replacing the guilt that was sitting heavily in his chest. 

 

“There’s a tea,” said Ygritte. “One that comes from the south. It brings on a woman’s blood. I have a little left, and I can take it when it’s time.”

 

Jon rolled her back with a great tug and kissed her. He kissed her with the wonder and joy and relief that was pouring through him.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Ygritte mumbled as she settled back down.

 

They fell asleep curled together in a pile of furs under a sky that danced with light. 

~~~

 

Everyone knew that fur traders were smelly and strange and came back from the north with tales of magical beast and wonders beyond human imagining. Something that people did  _ not  _ know about trappers was that they hungered for gossip with a thirst that would put a widowed busybody to shame. 

 

Trappers would save up jokes and stories and speculation for the entire year and then take turns telling them around the fires of the winter camp. When Ygritte and Jon woke the next morning and stumbled out to the fire to see what was cooking Tormund had the floor. 

 

“She was a beauteous great beast,” he was saying. “Thick, glossy fur and claws as long as my fingers!” He spread his digits wide to emphasize his point. “I had to have her, one way or another. I crept into her cave, knife out, but she ambushed me. When I fell I fell into her wet heat-”

 

“Nobody here is going to believe you tripped into fucking a bear,” Ygritte said, stuffing a biscuit into her mouth. 

 

“Oh, but I did. I got away, but I’ve heard tales of strange, hairless creatures running over these hills.”

 

“Probably you!” called another man to Tormund, and everyone laughed. 

 

“What of the south?” asked another. 

 

“More fighting,” Orell commented. “Those southoners, they argue against themselved like children squabbling in the dirt.”

 

“Big one this time,” another man commented, spitting a stream of tobacco into the ashes of the fire. “Country tried to rip itself in half over slavery.”

 

“It’s about government control-” one man offered, but Tormund tossed a split log at the man unlucky enough to have spoken up. 

 

“It’s over slavery, you fuckwit. No man should kneel to any other,” he growled. Tormund stared off into the fire, his face like a thundercloud. 

 

That afternoon Jon was paired with Tormund. It was dangerous for trappers to go into the Long Dark alone; that was the whole purpose of the camp. They were hunkered in a deep part of the woods in a clump of cedar bushes. The foliage was thick and fragrant. They were hoping for some edible critter to wander by. Tormund had been lecturing Jon on the art of fucking, and Jon was getting more and more uncomfortable. 

 

“It’s not so mysterious, really,” the wild-looking man whispered. “You just have to make sure they come first. Your cock shouldn’t get near her until she- she’d slick as a baby seal.”

 

Jon didn’t say anything. 

 

“I remember my first time,” Tormund continued with a gusty sigh. “She was a lass with tits out to here!” he gestured with his hands cupped comically far from his chest. “A man-maker, that one. ‘Course, your Ygritte isn’t bad herself.”

 

Jon’s blood began to seethe with a jealousy he knew was irrational. 

 

“Thank you,” someone mockingly whispered just behind the two men. They spun, arrows notched, and almost knocked over Ygritte. She was holding two rabbits, already skinned, and her grin was mocking. 

 

“Looks like you’ll be hungry tonight,” she murmured, and then swaggered off towards camp. 

 

Jon looked questioningly at Tormund, who shrugged. “I don’t know everything, lad.”

 

The winter camp passed quickly that year. Ygritte took Jon again out under the stars, and the next day one of the other trail wives found Jon and shyly asked if he’d like to do that thing with his mouth on her sometime. Jon declined and ran away as fast as he could. 

 

Jon’s revenge came early on what everyone knew would be the last morning while Ygritte was gathering water. She was crouched over, and Jon had her legging down and his cock in her cunny before she stood back up. Instead of jolting or jumping Ygritte just pushed back against him with an approving  _ mmm  _ of enjoyment. 

 

Another trapper walked right past them to the stream. He even touched his fingers to his forehead in a mock salute as he walked right by. 

 

“I thought you liked to be seen,” Jon whispered in Ygritte’s hooded ear. “I thought you liked to be watched as you worshipped your old gods.”

 

Ygritte keened, and Jon felt his balls beginning to tighten.

 

“Is this what you like? Being taken here and there; of passing the Long Night away by fucking under the stars?”

 

Ygritte breathed  _ yes  _ and moved her hands inside her coat to toy with her breasts. Jon felt himself hovering on the edge. 

 

“I’m going to come in you,” he whispered. “All day you’ll be sticky with my seed, and you’ll think of me as you walk away.”

 

“I’m coming with you, Jon Stark. You’re my man, and I’m your woman now,” she said as Jon pumped into her once more.

 

“Just like that?” he asked, his hands moving to her waist.

 

“Just like that.” 

 

He tugged her to him and ground his hips against the softness of her arse. “Fine with me,” he said as she shuddered on his cock and he poured himself into her. 

 

They tidied up quickly and returned to camp. They pulled down their shelter and packed the canvas and furs onto Jon’s horse. On the way out of the quickly emptying area Ygritte and Jon stopped to tell Tormund goodbye until next year.

 

“Be good to her,” the big man said to Jon with a grin.

 

“Or else…?” Jon asked. 

 

Tormund leaned in close. “Or else she’ll kill you.” 

 

Jon turned to look at Ygritte, who just winked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ygritte brings Val to "visit" with Jon.  
> (In every universe I will imagine Ygritte as bisexual.)

Eventually spring returned to the North. Melting snow plopped off the trees, which began to show faint green fuzz where leaves would eventually be. Wildlife returned, and the streams rushed and roared with frigid snowmelt. 

 

Ygritte and Jon worked their way south with the furs they had gathered and prepared over the winter. It was Jon’s biggest haul, and even Ygritte seemed to be impressed with their success. Jon had wanted to go to Winter Town where he could stop by Winterfell (how many years had it been since he’d seen his childhood home?) but Ygritte had insisted on going to Dog’s Bend. 

“It is so a real name,” she fired back at Jon. According to her they would arrive in the town this afternoon. They were walking along a dirt road that was soft from the warming temperatures and melting snow. 

 

“It sounds like an ailment,” Jon teased. 

 

“I’ll give you an ailment,” she said, shoulder bumping him. 

 

“Was there some reason it had to be this town?” Jon asked again. 

 

Ygritte shrugged. “I have a few friends here, and I- I need more of the pennyroyal tea. I took the last bit a fortnight ago.

 

Jon felt his stomach drop. “Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked. “Why did you still, why did we-?” 

 

He was angry and confused. Ygritte knew he didn’t want to get a bastard on her, she knew he’d rather wait until they had more of what Jon thought of as the  _ miracle tea.  _

 

He’d fucked her once after she’d taken it. She’d still had the bitter taste on her tongue when Jon had taken her there next to the flickering red fire. 

 

“It shouldn’t matter,” she said. “Most women only take it once a month, at the time when their menses should begin.”

 

The rest of the walk was quiet, which Jon savored. After his first winter trapping with Benjen Jon had been overwhelmed by the bustle and noise of a town after months and months of silence. They’d come to this exact town, and Jon’s head had ached after only a few hours.  _ Maybe  _ he reflected,  _ that first impression is why I’m not so keen on it now. _

 

Ygritte did indeed have a friend. She haggled a shopkeep into giving them an excellent price on the furs, and Ygritte split half of the money right there, passing it to Jon. 

 

That bothered him, but he wasn’t sure why. 

 

“What supplies do we need?” Jon asked. 

 

“Everything,” said Ygritte bluntly. 

 

They walked to a dry goods store and haggled over flour and soap and clever little oilskin pouches that would tightly store each separate item. They bought beans and several pounds of coffee. Ygritte bought a new filleting knife- she’d sharpened hers so thin it had snapped several weeks ago. 

 

“You’ll need to be careful with that,” the shopgirl dimpled as she passed the knife to Ygritte. 

 

“I’m always careful, love,” Ygritte purred back. Jon suddenly wondered how Ygritte had met girls; how she’d talked them into bed. 

 

“Can we get a room?” Ygritte asked wistfully, staring at the plate-glass window of the tiny inn. Jon had been tying their purchases to the back of his horse and preparing to leave town, but he glanced at Ygritte’s face and then across the rutted street to the inn. 

 

“We could do with baths,” he said. 

 

“Speak for yourself,” Ygritte grinned.  “I’m not a pussy that can’t wash in a nice, clean stream.”

 

“I’m not some snow-elf,” was Jon’s practiced reply. “Besides, I happen to know you  _ like  _ warm water.” He still thought of her with that brunette sometimes.

 

Ygritte just shot him a look.

 

They checked into the hotel, and a spot of impishness had Jon giving their names as Mr. and Mrs. Snow. 

 

“I’m your wife, am I?” Ygritte asked Jon as the maid left to fetch the tub and hot water. Ygritte pressed herself against Jon and lazily wrapper her arms around his neck. 

 

“Aye, you are tonight  _ Mrs. Snow. _ ”

 

They kissed lazily, and were interrupted by a stream of maids entering the plain little room with pails and pails of hot water. Jon and Ygritte helped carry up the next load, and soon Ygritte was soaking in the hot water. 

 

“You may have been right,” Ygritte sighed as she soaked in the water. “This is divine.”

 

Jon helped to scrub Ygritte, enjoying the time he had to linger over all her exposed skin. He hadn’t seen her totally naked until only a few weeks ago- they couldn’t fuck bare-assed in snow drifts if they wanted to keep all their fingers and toes. This was the first time he had a chance to linger over her, and  _ she wouldn’t let him.  _

 

“My teats are clean, thank you,” she said as she dunked her hair and then stood up.

 

“I wasn’t done,” Jon said as he wrapped a towel around Ygritte’s lithe frame. 

 

“I was. Besides, you should get in the while the water’s warm.”

 

She dried herself as Jon sank into the water. 

 

“Hey, where are you going?” he called when he saw her lacing up her dress. 

 

“Just out to fetch some things. I’ll be right back.” She tugged on her boots and was out the door in a flash. 

 

Jon wondered what she was about, but by now he knew enough to trust her. In truth she was a more skilled hunstman than he was; she had some instinctual knowledge of where the birds and beasts would hide. She would survive, his Ygritte would. 

 

Jon was just tugging on his breeches when Ygritte returned. She was grinning her secretive little smile, and Jon immediately realized why- she had another girl with her. Once they were both in Ygritte locked the door. 

 

“Jon, this is Val,” she said, moving to stand by Jon, who was trying to stand causally and not draw attention to his hardening erection. 

 

Ygritte held out her hand to the girl, who took it and stepped in front of Jon. “Valentine, my sweet, this is Jon. He’s my man.” Ygritte’s tone was proud, and Jon was extremely conscious of Val’s assessing gaze moving over his half-clothed body. 

 

Jon cleared his throat. “Nice to meet you,” he managed, though it came out half-strangled. 

 

Val ran one finger down Jon’s chest. “The pleasure is mine,” she purred. 

 

Val was tall, on a level with Jon, with curling blonde hair and full breasts. 

 

Jon looked questioningly at Ygritte, who smiled and nodded. Ygritte lifted Jon’s hand and placed it on Val’s breast. “Isn’t she sweet?” Ygritte whispered to Jon’s ear. “Don’t you want to taste her and find out.”

 

Jon turned to Ygritte and kissed her while he tightened his hand on Val’s breast. 

 

When Ygritte slipped away Jon bent over Val and kissed her. Her mouth was soft, slightly fuller than Ygritte’s, and he enjoyed learning the contours of her lips. When she traced over his teeth with her tongue he bit her, just enough to make her jump, and then he felt hands at his trousers. 

 

He looked up and moved his mouth to the side of Val’s neck. Ygritte was behind Val, and Jon leaned Val back so he could kiss Ygritte Over Val’s shoulder. Ygritte’s arms were around Val’s waist, and those were the fingers working at Jon’s pants. 

 

Val turned in Jon’s arms and began to kiss Ygritte. Jon saw Ygritte reach up to cradle the other girl’s cheek, and Jon thought  _ she does that to me, too; I know how that feels.  _ The women continued to fondle and kiss each other as they slowly undressed, and Jon was captured by arousal. They were both beautiful- pale and lean with planes and curves.

 

Jon stripped out of his pants as the girls slowly walked over to the bed while all wrapped up in each other. Val ended up on her back against the faded green quilt, and Ygritte stretched on out her side to fondle and suck Val’s dark little nipples. 

 

Jon hooked his hands under the crook of Val’s knees (her skin was soft there, too; Ygritte was right: girls  _ were  _ soft) and he tugged her arse to the edge of the bed. 

 

Jon combed his fingers through the deep blonde curls covering Val’s most intimate flesh and watched Ygritte play with Val’s breasts. He could feel Val dampening, and the smell of arousal was beginning to fill the air. His cock jutted out in front of him, as impatient as ever. 

 

Gently, almost idly, Jon’s finger’s began to circle over Val’s clitoris. He watched Ygritte- _ his woman-  _ suck Val’s nipples until Val’s breasts were swollen and Ygritte’s lips were full and damp. He understood this now, he understood that for her it wasn’t men  _ or  _ women, it was either or both. She was a wild thing, his Ygritte, and she’d decided to share that with him. 

 

Slowly Jon sank his cock into Val. It was the same, but...different. He knew it wasn’t Ygritte, but it was still good; it was still a pussy, hot and sweet. Ygritte gave Val one last kiss before straddling the blonde girl’s face. She was facing Jon and leaned forward to kiss Jon. 

 

Jon felt Ygritte jolt as Val found Ygritte’s sensitive nubbin. 

 

“Do you see this?” Ygritte asked as she began to rock her hips against the other girl’s face. Jon moved his hips in time with hers, and he saw Val’s belly clench in desire. “Do you see this beautiful creature sucking me, eating me?”

 

Jon groaned a little. 

 

“I can see you filling her so good, so deep, just like you do to me” Ygritte crooned. She stuck her fingers into her mouth and began to rub Val’s clitoris with those same fingers. 

 

A muffled little moan came from Val. 

 

“This is what I want,” Ygritte whispered, leaning forward to kiss Jon’s sweaty chest. “You with me, summers and winters, and sometimes-” she gasped a little, “a girl between us.”

 

Jon gritted his teeth. “Me too,” he whispered. He bit Ygritte as he came, growling into her shoulder. Ygritte kept working at Val, who began to shudder against Jon, and finally Ygritte came, falling forward to lean against Jon. 

 

Jon fetched the washrags. 

 

“I’ll take one,” said Ygritte, leaning forward to take a lukewarm flannel from him. 

 

“I’ve got it,” said Jon, his voice insistent. 

 

He cleaned Val first, trying not to think about how satisfied he was to watch his seed trickle out of her passage. When Val was tidy Jon slowly cleaned Ygritte, swabbing her gently while holding her tightly to him. 

 

When the flannels were soaking in the now-cool bathwater the three of them lay back on the narrow bed. Ygritte was in the middle, though Jon and Val loosely held hands on Ygritte’s stomach. 

 

“How did you meet?” Jon asked. He didn’t know how to handle this; he’d grown comfortable with Ygritte.

 

“We met here one spring after the hunt. I went into the little tavern for a meat pie and there she was, working behind the bar.” Ygritte turned to kiss Val’s cheek. 

 

“So you just took her home with you?” Jon asked. 

 

“No,” said Val, cupping one of Ygritte’s breasts lightly. “I took her home with me.”

 

The women grinned at each other, and Jon understood then that this was Ygritte, that she had enough love for him and whatever woman caught her eye. She was easy like this, caught between two lovers, and Jon wanted to give her that. 

 

Eventually the three of them rose and dressed. They ate together at the tavern where Val still worked, Jon and Ygritte on one side of the bar while she worked the other. 

 

When the finally left the warmth of the tavern the night air was cool on Jon’s face. He took Ygritte’s hand in his and slowly began to walk down the street towards the inn. “What you said, in bed,” he began, speaking slowly. “I want that too. I want to give you that.”

 

Ygritte squeezed his hand. 

 

“But I want something too,” Jon said. He stopped in the shadow of an alley and turned Ygritte towards him. “I want to be there as your husband. I want to grow old with you, I want our children to know no shame.”

 

Ygritte kissed him quickly. “There is only shame where we let shame grow,” she said. 

 

“That’s not an answer,” Jon said as he backed Ygritte against the stone of the building. 

 

“No, it’s not,” she said, and kissed him again. 

 

The next time they came up for air (lips damp and swollen and faces flushed) Ygritte cocked her head to the side and asked, “Why do you want to marry me?”

 

Jon knew the answer to this. “Because you’re my woman and I’m your man.”

 

“Just like that?” she asked. 

 

Jon knew she was remembering the winter camp. “Just like that,” he said, and then he kissed her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! You made it! I know that Jon x Ygritte isn't a popular ship here on AO3, so I sincerely would like to thank each and every person who has read this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wedding.  
> Return to Winterfell.

They lazed in the bed the next morning. Ygritte had insisted that if she was to be married by a church man (she spat the words like something distasteful) she’d only do outside, under the stars like the very first men. It didn’t matter to Jon, all he wanted was Ygritte. Besides- an evening wedding gave him all day to practice his  _ husbandly duties.  _

 

Eventually they bathed and dressed and had a very late luncheon in the inn’s common room. Jon ate three meat pies, and when Ygritte laughed Jon said that he was enjoying a meal he didn’t have to kill himself. 

 

As the shadows started to lengthen Jon and Ygritte readied the horse. She waited in the stable as Jon “went back to fetch something,” and then was momentarily speechless when he returned with a handful of delicate purple flowers. 

 

They walked side by side down the road to the little wooden church. The shadows were long when they got to the church steps, and they found the pastor locking up. He didn’t react to their request for an outdoor service, and the coin Jon passed him for the marriage license went straight into the pastor’s pocket. 

 

The very first stars were coming out as Jon and Ygritte exchanged their vows. When Ygritte recited hers Jon noticed that she’d left out the bit about obeying, but he just smiled and carried on, just like she did.

 

The service was over in minutes. The minister lead the way into the church where they signed the registry, the preacher signed their license, and then they were done. 

 

Jon and Ygritte (now Mr. and Mrs. Stark, though Jon suspected Ygritte wouldn’t take to being called as such) walked hand in hand down the starlit road. Eventually, once they were a ways out of town the turned off the road and looked for a place to set up camp. 

 

Jon saw to the horse as Ygritte unrolled their bedrolls and blankets. He wasn’t looking at her (he couldn’t look at her without losing what remained of his self control) but he was so  _ aware  _ of where she was. He seemed to gravitate towards her like a sunflower to the sun. 

 

They never managed to light a fire that night. The crashed together like a summer storm, tearing at each other’s clothes and nipping at each other’s mouths until they were panting and naked. Jon wrapped one arm around Ygritte and tugged her tightly against him, his other hand pinching her nipple.

 

“You’re mine,” he growled into the soft flesh of her neck. “No other man will touch you.”

 

“What if he does?” Ygritte said, breaking away and gripping Jon’s cock tight. 

 

“I’ll kill him,” said Jon, and in that moment he knew he could. 

 

“You’re mine too, Jon Stark,” said Ygritte, her hand sliding tightly up and down his shaft. “You’re my man.”

 

Jon shoved her onto her back and lay over her with his weight on his forearms. “Aye, I’m yours. You’re stuck with me in the eyes of God and men.”  He ducked his dark head to suckle at her breast. 

 

“Words,” Ygritte scoffed on a little gasp. “A ritual of words.” She roughly shoved Jon’s head towards her pussy. He bit her on the stomach but obligingly settled between her thighs. 

 

“This is  _ my  _ ceremony,” Ygritte gasped as Jon opened her with his thumbs and took an exploratory lick. “Here, in the sight of the stars and moon.” 

 

Jon sucked at her clit for a moment and she began to writhe beneath his mouth. “These are my vows, husband. I won’t obey you, but I will honor you with my body and words.”

 

Jon rewarded her by inserting two fingers into her wet and empty cunny. She jumped and continued. 

 

“I’ll keep food at your fire and-” she jumped, Jon had bitten her- “I’ll warm your bed as I please.”

 

Jon hummed into her pussy and Ygritte’s breathing hitched again. “I’ll have no other men, no men but you, Jon, and- oh gods- the girls we share between us.”

 

Jon had crawled up her body and was braced above her. It was hard for him to see her face in the shadows of the trees, but he could see her eyes glittering up at him. Jon let his fingers circle over her agonizingly slowly. 

 

“And…?” he asked before worrying one hard nipple with his lips. 

 

“And I will love you,” Ygritte said, bucking beneath him, “until you don’t deserve it any more.” 

 

Jon grinned down at her, his teeth shining in the light of the nearly-full moon. He thrust into her then, a move with more power than finesse. Ygritte’s nails raked over his back and he knew he would wear her marks tomorrow. 

 

“I-” Jon said, thrusting into, the force of his hips pushing them across the furs, “will keep you safe while I have breath in my body.”

 

He dug his toes into the forest floor and pushed into her again, his movements not so much fast as they were painstakingly strong and deliberate. He wanted her to feel every inch. 

 

“I’ll provide you with food and shelter-” he bit her, and she gasped. “-and the warmth of my body.”

 

Ygritte’s fingers dug into the hard muscles of Jon’s ass and he slowly increased his speed. “I’ll kill the man that takes you from me,” he rasped into Ygritte’s neck, “And you’ll be the only woman to wake with me in the morning-” he moved a hand between them and began flicking Ygritte’s swollen clit for he could feel his own orgasm creeping down his spine- “and the woman who shares my bed at night.”

 

“I will love you,” he roared as the world went white and he emptied himself into Ygritte’s clenching quim, “Until I’m dead.”

 

They lay together then, the cool night air drying the sweat on their bodies. When Ygritte ran a palm over Jon’s ass he managed to huff a laugh. “You can’t want me dead already,” he said. He flopped off of her and onto his back. 

 

“Well…” Ygritte said, and then burst into laughter at Jon’s expression. 

 

“I love you, husband,” she whispered into his chest. 

 

“I love you too, wife,” he said, kissing the center of her palm. 

 

That night they slept naked under the stars. 

~~~

 

The next morning they packed the horse and began to walk east down the road. “I’d like to visit my family,” said Jon. 

 

Ygritte swallowed a piece of the smoked sausage they’d purchased in town. “Why?” she asked. 

 

“I haven’t seen them in years,” said Jon. “And I’d like them to meet you.”

 

Ygritte smiled at him. “Are you sure you don’t just miss your soft featherbed and fancy southern house?”

 

Jon yanked her against him. “Just think of the things I would do to you on a soft feather mattress,” he said. Ygritte bit Jon’s chin before kissing him back, all teeth and tongue. “Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps that’s why there are so many southerners!”

 

“Starks aren’t southerners,” said Jon without any heat. This was an old debate between the two of them. “We’re the most northern of all the territories.”

 

Ygritte just scoffed.

 

The weather warmed as they steadily made their way southeast. Jon and Ygritte took advantage of this by ripping each other’s clothes off every chance they could get. They actually fucked until they were both raw and tender, and even then they spent the nights curled together and luxuriously kissing. 

 

Their bliss lasted until they hit a town three days ride from Winterfell. Jon was excited about seeing familiar mountains and hills in the distance, and he’d asked the postman in Gullstown if there had been word of the Stark family. 

 

“Not a family no more,” the man had replied, still sorting lettering into small wooden cubbies. “They’re all gone but one of the daughters, and she’s there with the Boltons. They’ve held Winterfell going on two years now.”

 

Jon put a hand on the counter to steady himself. “The Boltons-” he said numbly. 

 

“Foul family, but who am I to say.” The postman sniffed disapprovingly. 

 

Jon walked out of the little office like a sleepwalker. “Who are the Boltons?” Ygritte asked as Jon untied the horse.

 

“They lived about a day’s ride from my family. For years they tried to take our land, and there were always rumors about things they did to people.”

 

Ygritte raised an eyebrow. Jon explained, “There were stories of them slowly peeling people’s skins off of their living bodies. Flaying men.”

 

Ygritte just looked at him. “Is it true?”

 

Jon half shrugged. “It used to be.”

 

They walked well past dark that night. The road was wide and dry and Jon was in a rush to get to Winterfell. When they curled around each other for once there weren’t any amorous attempts between them. 

 

They walked long and hard for two more days. They hit Stark land early in the morning and continued to walk into the afternoon. Jon’s feeling of foreboding grew and grew- something didn’t look right. 

 

When they came over the final rise to walk into the lower home pasture Jon saw what was wrong. The house was gone. 

 

Jon had prepared himself for many things. He’d played so many scenarios out in his head- fighting the Boltons, stealing away Sansa or Arya, leading the other neighboring houses against his enemies- but he hadn’t been at all prepared for the scorched earth and eerie emptiness of the Stark homestead. 

 

The barn was still standing, it’s sides weathered and worn. Jon pushed open the great side door, which creaked. He walked in and breathed in the smell of horse and hay and dust and ...his childhood. The barn  _ felt  _ empty in a way that it never had when Jon was a child. Ygritte came into the barn, and they stood quietly watching dust motes dance in the air.  

 

Ygritte leaned against Jon’s side, and he put an arm around her. “What now?” she asked. “Where should we look?”

 

Jon pressed his lips to the top of Ygritte’s head. He’d never had to explain himself to her, somehow she had just always  _ known.  _ “Winter Town, I suppose, then south to Chamberlain. Most people coming and going from the north pass through Chamberlain at some point. We’ll see if anyone say anything, and then we can head back to the winter trails. 

 

They spent that one night camping on Stark lands. Ygritte and Jon went briefly into he bunkhouse, but it felt… off. Two of the mattresses were missing, and everything else had been taken away. There was a layer of dust on the floor, and it somehow seemed  _ wrong  _ to go into the empty little structure. 

 

He lay curled with Ygritte that night in what would have been the Winterfell yard. It was strange. As young boys Aunt Cat had let the boys have “camp outs” in the yard during the summer. Ned would set up one of the tent they used on cattle drives and Robb and Jon and Theon would lay out in the yard telling ghost stories and talking about girls (always in the abstract) and drinking a flask of whiskey Theon had stolen from one of the ranch hands.

 

Jon knew the sound of the early spring tree frogs and the occasional hoot of an own. He knew the way the wind rustled through the grass, and he knew that there would be honeysuckle on the far side of the stream. He’d known these things for years and years without ever even noticing them, but now that he was home, it was almost overwhelming. 

 

Amost as overwhelming as the fact that his childhood home had been reduced to ashes that had washed away god-knew how long ago. 

 

Jon and Ygritte arrived in Winter Town the next day. Mr Kettering said that he saw a huge man with a scarred face in January, a man that had previously been seen with Sansa, but that he didn’t know what had happened after that. Town speculation was that she disappeared sometime in early spring.

 

Jon was frustrated and anxious. 

 

“Do you know who the man was?” Ygritte asked as they stood on the narrow walkway outside of the dry goods store. 

 

“Maybe,” said Jon. Ygritte elbowed him, so Jon sighed and explained. “Just before Benjen took me north, one of my father’s friends came to visit him. They asked him to come south, and… well, you’ve heard what happened. When Robert came north he brought bodyguards with him. The one was called Clegane, the Hound of Robert’s wife, Cersei. He was huge, the biggest man I’d seen, and he had scars over one half of his face. 

 

“He has your sister,” said Ygritte, and Jon wanted to deny it, but how many burned giants could there be in the world?

 

“He has my sister,” Jon repeated. 

 

They bought Ygritte a horse and saddle before leaving Winter Town. Jon wanted to make better time south (for that’s the direction the Lannister Hound would have taken them) and they could only make it so many miles on foot. Ygritte’s horse was a older, gentle beast, and for that she was (silently) grateful. She was one of life’s natural pedestrians. 

 

One night a few days after leaving Winter Town Jon turned to Ygritte and slowly slid his palm down her belly and under her leggings to her curl-covered mound. She smacked his wrist, and Jon stilled. 

 

“No?”

 

“No,” Ygritte said. “You’ve made me ride that great beast for days, everything hurts and it’s your fault, Jon Stark.”

 

Jon removed his hand and curled himself more tightly around Ygritte. “When you’re feeling better,” he said. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Aye, you will indeed,” said Ygritte darkly. 

 

Jon fell asleep planning all of the ways he could make Ygritte feel better. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I'd originally planned on posting one chapter a week until the end. However, currently I have LOST one of the 2 people who bookmarked this fic and exactly 207 people have read the fic at all. I'm just going to post the work and get it over with.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reunion.  
> A visit to the hot springs.

Ygritte’s eyes were wide when they followed the river into Carmichael. “Is this one of your great southern cities?” she asked, watching in fascination as a four-horse mail coach rattled by. 

 

Jon laughed. “No, this is a smaller town, actually. There are cities that have more than a hundred thousand people in them. They live in buildings taller than several stacked houses.”

 

Ygritte looked sceptical. “And where do they farm? Where do they get their food?” She airily waved her hand as if to shoo away Jon’s absurd claim. 

 

Jon just smiled. 

 

They spent their day going from inn to inn and pub to pub asking if anyone had seen a beautiful redheaded women being taken by a large, scarred man. No one had seen anything, and Jon and Ygritte spent the night curled in the trees just off the road on the south side of town. They’d spent a large chunk of their money on Ygritte’s horse, and neither of them felt it was right to spend money on a bed. They were trappers- they lived outside. 

 

The next day they searched again. Carmichael was the furthest extent that large riverboats could travel, and Jon clung to the hope that maybe she’d taken a boat somewhere. They asked crewmembers and the harbor officer if anyone had seen Sansa, but they all said no. 

 

It was mid-afternoon when Jon ran out of places to check. He was tired and hungry and losing hope fast. 

 

“We could stay another night and see what boats come in in the morning,” Ygritte suggested. She’d loved watching the boats; she said they looked like great floating villages. If Jon had been in a better mood he’d have teased her for it, but now her naivete only depressed him more. Ygritte had deserved better. 

 

“No,” he said. “Let’s head out.”

 

They walked their horses through alleys leading away from the wharf, turning north at each junction.  Eventually they hit the main street. And slowly moved along it. 

 

“Do we need anything before we go?” Ygritte asked. 

 

Jon had to stop himself from snapping at her. It wasn’t her fault that his family was missing, and he knew life went on, but… he wanted to be left alone to brood. “No,” he said. 

 

Jon wasn’t paying close attention to his surroundings. He was walking along, semi-aware that they were on the edge of town, when he noticed a woman with deep red hair up in front of him. She was clearly getting ready to mount her horse, and Jon absent-mindedly thought  _ she looks a bit like Sansa did,  _ and then he really  _ looked  _ at the woman. It was Sansa, Sansa was here, and Jon dropped his horse’s reins and sprinted towards her. 

 

“Sansa!” he called. She turned towards him, searching. He knew when she saw him, and he yelled again. “Sansa!”

 

And then she was in his arms (she’d gotten so tall, taller than him) and he was spinning her around. “Oh, gods, Sansa, you’re alive, you’re here,” he was mumbling into her shoulder, and she was laughing and asking  _ Jon, why are you here, where have you been?  _ And everything was loud and chaotic and red. 

 

When Jon put Sansa back on the ground he scowled up at the man (it  _ was  _ Clegane) holding two horses just behind his sister. 

 

Ygritte walked up then leading both of their horses and Jon stepped back beside her. “Sansa, this is Ygritte, and Ygritte this is my sister Sansa and…” they both looked up at Sansa’s companion. 

 

“This is Sandor,” said Sansa firmly, and Jon raised an eyebrow at the possessiveness in her tone. 

 

He asked Sansa and Clegane (Jon couldn’t think of him as Sandor) if they were staying somewhere in town. They weren’t, and so the four mounted up and rode out of town together. 

 

Sansa caught Jon up on what had happened after he’d left Winterfell with Benjen. When Sansa told him of the Boltons, of Ramsey, Jon tightened his hands so hard on the reins that his horse danced sideways. 

 

He told Sansa of his time trapping with Benjen, and the way their uncle had disappeared. Sansa talked (under the cover of darkness and her looming ...traveling companion) of Ramsay and the Boltons and the burning of Winterfell. 

 

Sansa’s confession and Jon’s immediate absolution seemed to clear the air for the whole group. They rode north through greening forests and fields in comfortable silence. Sometimes someone would share a story (one devoid of sadness and horror) and questions would be asked until the topic naturally fizzled out. 

 

The next big, awkward moment came at the turn-off to the hot springs. Jon had visited it once with Robb and Theon, and he’d been dreaming of taking Ygritte there since he’d seen her the very first time. The steam and echoes had played rather heavily into Jon’s fantasies, and so he was surprised and mildly horrified by Sansa obviously thinking the same thing. 

 

“Ygritte and I are going to-” he said, only to hear Sansa say, “Sandor and I-”

 

Jon watched as Sansa blushed furiously, clearly mortified to have been caught planning a tryst with her lover. 

 

“Do I look like that when I blush?” asked Ygritte, eyeing Sansa like the other woman was a scientific specimen. 

 

“I don’t know, as I’ve never seen you do it,” Jon replied dryly. 

 

“Why don’t you two-” Sansa started, turning her horse to move down the road. 

 

“We’ll all go, I don’t see what there is to be ashamed of,” said Ygritte, and she kicked her horse into a rocking canter down the road to the springs. Jon shrugged and followed. It would be steamy in the cave, and there would be ways to preserve at least some modesty if people so chose. 

 

They rode along for a while longer, Jon and Ygritte together, Sansa and Sandor trailing along behind. They reached the caves first, and rushed to put down their saddlebags. Sansa and Sandor entered the cave then and they were left in an awkward muddle, all four of them staring quietly at the water. 

 

“Well, come on then,” said Ygritte, and she toed off her boots and efficiently stripped herself. She was the first into the water, with Jon not far behind. 

 

It took Jon less than a second to learn that he loved the feel of a woman against him in the water. Ygritte became slippery and soft, almost like silk, and their weightless limbs seemed to brush against each other in an erotic dance. 

 

“You’re corrupted me, woman,” said Jon, backing Ygritte against the far curve of the stone pool. “I just walked naked by my sister and didn’t think of it at all.” He kissed her then, long and slow, a now-familiar fit. 

 

“I don’t think your Sansa could say the same,” Ygritte whispered against his mouth. “She can’t seem to look away now.”

 

Jon turned to look at the other couple, and automatically caught a sliver of soap Sandor had just launched to him. “Wash, you shits,” the big man called with a smile in his voice. 

 

Jon and Ygritte happily obliged. The soap was passed back and forth in wordless and erotic ballet. By the time Jon and Ygritte reached below the waterline the soap was floating away down the pool and neither of them even remembered that they weren’t alone. 

 

Jon wanted Ygritte with a visceral intensity that he hadn’t previously known. He wanted to plant himself in her until she could feel only him, he wanted to mark her as his,  _ his  _ woman,  _ his  _ mate. And a worthy mate she was- those high and perfect breasts with their rosy red tips, the luster of her hair, the endless mischief in her heart and the strength in her arms. In that moment he wanted to  _ own  _ her, and he pushed her up into the edge of the pool and thrust himself into her without finesse. Ygritte rose to meet him (a worthy mate indeed) and Jon continued to rock himself into her without thought. 

 

When Ygritte’s fingers slipped around to Jon’s arse it became apparent that she wanted to own him too. They’d never discussed this, though Jon knew it was done. In another moment he may have swatted her fingers away, but today it felt  _ right,  _ it felt as though they were each trying to crawl up into the other, and Jon growled a little when he felt the tip of her finger wriggle into his tight passage. 

 

Behind him he heard Sansa gasp and Sandor moan, and Jon knew at least one of them was watching the show. That felt right too, somehow, that the joining be witnessed by someone. Ygritte worked her finger further into Jon, and she moved it in little circles there. Jon did the same thing to her, working his fingers around the top of her slick-soaked cunny, gently toying with the little nub there. They came together, Jon with a shout and Ygritte with a high, sobbing cry. They stayed still, panting for a moment, before Jon tugged her back down into the water. 

 

They floated in the water for a few minutes, admiring the picture Sansa and Sandor made together. Sansa was stretched out on her back along the edge of the pool. In the half-light that reached the back of the cave she looked like an alabaster statue; Sandor’s Galatea come to life, and his dark head was nestled at the apex of her thighs. 

 

After a few moments Sandor picked his head up and Sansa did as well, looking at him questioningly. Jon and Ygritte watched as Sansa was tugged off the rock and positioned against Sandor’s front, looking directly at them. 

 

Jon watched Sandor lean over Sansa, and he could just hear the other man whisper, “This is your punishment, though I think you’ll like this too.”

 

Jon watched, his cock growing hard beneath the water, as Sandor wrapped one impossibly long arm around Sansa and proceeded to very deliberately thrust into her. Sansa’s breasts swayed, and her pink lips, swollen from kisses, parted on a gasp.

 

The evil little voice in Jon’s head told him to kiss Sansa.  _ Kiss his sister? Not fucking likely.  _ Jon turned in a rush and grabbed Ygritte by the waist. He positioned her in front of him, a mirror of Sansa and Sandor, and slowly pushed his way inside. 

 

In the aftermath of this… whatever it was, they all floated quietly in the pool, enjoying the glow of satisfaction and lax muscles. 

 

When Ygritte began telling a story about dragons Jon got out of the pool to fetch a blanket and their clothes. They might as well take a moment to get everything good and clean. 

 

They spent another day in the springs and lolling around in the steam without a stitch of clothing between them. One of the other northern families- Jon jolted when he remembered that it was the Boltons- used to say that a naked man had few secrets. That seemed to be true, for morale was good and both couples seemed much more relaxed with each other when they rode away from the springs. 

 

Jon began to make plans for Winterfell as they rode closer and closer. They’d need to see about chicken and horses and the cattle. They’d need lumber for the house and all the things to go in it- utensils and and furniture and bedding and all the things he hadn’t had with him on the trapping lines. 

 

He was mentally reviewing another list (of tasks to get the land ready this time) when Sansa and Sandor walked into that evening’s campsite and announced that they were getting married in two days when they arrived in Winter Town. Ygritte immediately moved to congratulate them, and Jon was momentarily surprised. It hadn’t really occurred to him, but yes- it did make sense.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor and Sansa's wedding.   
> Winterfell 2.

The morning of Sandor and Sansa’s wedding dawned bright and clear. Jon and Sandor made it to the church early, and Sandor went inside to speak to the minister and pay for the wedding license. Jon was left sitting on the porch steps. He thought of Aunt Cat and the man he thought of as his father. He thought of his own wedding (even though the one that made him smile took place naked on a pile of furs). He thought of Sansa, and how far she’d come. 

 

One of Jon’s sharpest memories of Sansa had been when she was about four. It had been a bright summer day, and Aunt Cat had been washing linens. Sansa, her red hair bright, had been scurrying by Cat’s feet. A few sheets had been clipped to the line already, and Sansa had walked under one so that it draped over her head like a veil. 

 

“I’m going to be a be-YOU-tiful bride,” she’d crowed to Jon, who had been seven at the time. 

 

“Who would want to marry you?” Theon (newly arrived at Winterfell) had sneered. 

 

Jon had punched Theon in the mouth for that (the transition hadn’t been easy on anyone) and had split his knuckle open on Theon’s tooth. Aunt Cat had quietly cleaned his hand before sending them all off to Ned. 

 

Sansa didn’t even have a clean sheet to use for a veil today. Jon wondered if it bothered her, that she would be married in a bloodstained dress. While Jon waited, he walked away from the church and picked flowers. 

 

When Sansa and Ygritte arrived Ygritte claimed the need for a walk. Sandor was waiting inside the church (Sansa had been adamant that Sandor not see her before the ceremony) and that left Jon and Sansa alone outside in the bright spring sun. He’d already given her the flowers he’d picked

 

“He loves you,” Jon said. He’d never had any finesse, and the truth was all he could think to tell. He didn’t know anything else about Sandor, but Jon could tell he loved Sansa.

 

“I know,” said Sansa, and she smiled a secret little smile that had Jon thinking of Ygritte. “I love him too.”

 

“When Winterfell is rebuilt- when the house is done, and everything- I’d like to stay. Me and Ygritte, I mean. Make us a family again.”

 

Sansa hugged him tightly. “Of course, of course you will! We have to stick together, we remaining Starks.”

 

Ygritte turned back up again, a length of lace in her fingers. “Here,” she said, tying it neatly around Sansa’s flowers. “You’re ready to go. Something borrowed, right?”

 

Sansa laughed and Jon scowled at Ygritte. 

 

“Will you walk me down?” Sansa asked, fidgeting with her skirt. 

 

Jon’s heart squeezed. “Of course.” He kissed Sansa’s cheek and winged his arm at her. “Let’s go.”

 

The ceremony was short and quick. Jon’s main thought, his main  _ emotion  _ was one of relief. Sansa had made this decision herself, Sansa was happy. Hopefully that could be good enough for him. 

 

After congratulating the newlyweds Jon and Ygritte untied their horses. “We’ll give you some privacy,” Ygritte said with a smile. 

 

They loped away from the little white church on the edge of Winter Town. Ygritte refused to trot, she said it made her bones rattle. She’d never be a horse person, and that was fine, there were so many other things Ygritte could do. 

 

“Do you remember our wedding night?” Ygritte asked when they’d slowed to a walk.

 

“How could I forget?” Jon asked, giving her a toothy grin. “Tearing each others clothes off out under the moon.”

 

“I hope Sansa gets something like that. Her man is surely big enough,” Ygritte said. 

 

Jon wrinkled his nose. 

 

“Don’t be a boor,” Ygritte scolded. “I like him. He’s a big, quiet one, that’s true, but he’s served your sister well. And he knows her, oh yes he does.” Ygritte smiled her cat-with-the-cream little smirk. 

 

“She’s lovely, your sister. I enjoyed what we did in the springs, what they did. I was serious about going back,” she said. “Maybe next time I can play with Sansa.”

 

This was said causally, but Jon knew it for the question it was. He mentally compared the Sansa he’d known as a child (proper, calm, ladylike in every way) with the Sansa he’d witnessed in the hot springs. 

 

“Feel free to try,” Jon said, grinning. Jon was confident Sansa wouldn’t be open to the idea of lying with another girl. 

 

He was wrong. 

 

Not long after returning to the Winterfell Ranch Jon and Sandor were sent to Wintertown with a list of supplies they needed. Jon rode next to Sandor in the wagon’s high wooden seat. The days was warm and clear, and they sat quietly listening to the thud of the horse’s hooves and the birds flitting through the air. 

 

They eventually arrived in Winter Town, and Jon was jolted from his thoughts. “You might not like me,” said Sandor as he jumped down from the wagon, “but at least you aren’t a fucking talker.”

 

Jon didn’t know how to take that. “I don’t know you, so how would I like you?” was his eventual response. “You came to Winterfell before the war, and after that everything went to hell. You fought for the confederacy, but ended up here alone with my sister. She’s happy with you, and I’m not going to take that away, but it doesn’t mean  _ I  _ trust you.”

 

“Wasn’t my fault your father trusted Robert,” said Sandor. “I wasn’t the one who asked him to come South.”

 

“You worked for Joffrey! You knew what he was like, and you protected him, even from little girls,” said Jon, remembering Joffrey and Arya. He was mad now, all the pent up rage and suspicions boiling out. 

 

“Man’s gotta have a job,” said Sandor. “Never said I approved of him.”

 

Jon took a step towards the larger man, who dropped a heavy hand on Jon’s shoulder. “We can do this here,” he said lowly. “Or we can go in, get the shit the women want, and take it home.”

 

Jon was half-tempted to smack Sandor’s hand off of his shoulder, but he didn’t want to cause further speculation about Winterfell’s residents. “Fine,” he managed. 

 

They bought their supplies, loaded everything into the wagon, and headed out of town with a charged silence between them. 

 

“You’re not wrong,” said Sandor out of the blue when they were about halfway home. “I wouldn’t trust a fucker like me with your sister. I don’t know why your sister picked me, either, but she did and I’m not leaving.”

 

Jon thought this was just about the longest thing he’d heard Sandor say. “I just want Sansa to be safe,” said Jon. “Safe and happy.”

 

“Me fucking too,” said Sandor, still not looking at Jon. 

 

“Well, if you decide to up and leave or go back or whatever,” said Jon, relaxing, “Ygritte and I will come after you.”

 

Sandor huffed a laugh at that image. 

Jon just smiled (feeling a little like Ygritte, he wondered if she felt like this all the time) and said, “We won’t try to fight you, we all know how that fight would end. We would  _ hunt you. _ ”

 

Sandor had seen Ygritte and Jon in action. The threat was enough to wipe the smile off his face. 

 

“Won’t be necessary,” he said, and that was that. The air was clear, the men had said their piece, and they could get along with their lives. 

 

As it turned out, the day held one more surprise. 

 

Jon and Sandor arrived home mid-afternoon. They unloaded the wagon, rubbed down the horses, and put away the building supplies in the lean-to by the barn. 

 

“Where are the girls?” Jon asked, looking around. 

 

“Sansa is probably inside sewing some fucking thing,” said Sandor from experience. Jon looked thoughtful. 

 

When they walked into the bunkhouse Jon half-expected the tableau they found. Sansa and Ygritte were curled together in Jon’s bed, their faces flushed and clothing in disarray. 

 

Jon had been haunted by the sight of Sansa in the hot spring. She was his sister (well, his cousin, but for all intents and purposes and history his sister!) but she had been so flushed and soft and  _ beautiful  _ wrapped around Sandor’s cock in the steamy air of the springs. Jon had been struck with how similar she could look to Ygritte, and yet how different the two of them were. Those thoughts (dark and warm) had only gotten stronger when Ygritte had made a comment about seducing  _ his beautiful sister.  _

 

Jon had thought she couldn’t do. He’d rather hoped she  _ wouldn’t  _ do it, because now, oh god, not Jon would forever be imagining Ygritte’s head between Sansa’s thighs or Ygritte’s mouth worrying one of Sansa’s breasts. Jon was paralyzed by his own imagination there in the doorway of the bunkhouse, and when his senses returned he saw Ygritte slowly righting the front of her dress and smirking into Jon’s eyes. 

 

Sansa was all blushes, and Jon could  _ feel  _ Sandor’s shock and arousal behind him. Sandor must have recovered before Jon, for he grabbed Jon’s shoulder and tugged him backward out the door. “Doesn’t look like we’re needed here, and there are always trees that need felling. Come on, you sappy fuck.” he said. 

 

Summer melted away into fall. The cows came home, and a vegetable garden was planted. Sandor and Jon chopped trees and milled them, chopped and milled, until Jon’s hands were a mass of callouses and his back ached without ceasing. The frame of the house went up, and then the great beams of the roof. Finally, eventually, the roof was finished and watertight and the house was officially completed. 

 

As time went on, Jon wouldn’t remember the pain and the work of that summer. He’d remember sleeping outside on a horse blanket with Ygritte. The stars would be studded in an indigo sky, cicadas would be humming in the trees, and he’d love her to the tune of the breeze.  Jon would remember the smell of sawdust when he thought of that summer. He’d remember the taste of Sansa’s slick on Ygritte’s lips and the sex they had (hard and fast) afterwards. 

 

Arya came home when the summer ended. She and Sansa just walked into the barn, casual as you please, and Jon thought for a second he’d imagined it, but no- there she was, leading a massive grey horse and wearing Union blue. 

 

Jon forgot himself- what he was doing, where he was, everything but the towheaded sister he’d loved above all else- and sprinted to her. “Where have you  _ been?”  _ Jon asked, holding Arya at arm’s length. “Well, I can see where you’ve been, but why did you stay away? Why didn’t you write?” 

 

He put Arya down and she swiped at her cheek before stepping back. “I joined the army,” she laughed. 

 

Jon was glad for Arya’s return. Not just for her, although he was so glad she’d survived and come home. Jon was also glad for himself. Arya had tagged after him when they were children and had  _ lived  _ for his help with horses or games; having her home and by his side felt right. 

 

“Are you happy here?” she asked out of the blue (in typical Arya style) one day when they were sitting on the porch steps together shelling peas to be canned. 

 

Jon’s gut reaction was “Yes, of course,” but he took the time to think about it. If Arya was asking, it was probably important.

 

“Yes,” he said slowly. “I am happy. I liked the trails- the wide open spaces, the adventures- but I’d always wanted a family. I knew I wouldn’t get Winterfell, it was going to Robb, and Aunt Cat- well, I didn’t think Aunt Cat wanted me hanging around. Going with Uncle Benjen seemed like the right decision. Being here at Winterfell again gives me a family- you and Sansa and Sandor, even- and maybe one day I’ll have a kid of my own for you to play with.”

 

Arya nodded, her eyes on her bowl of peas. 

 

“Are you happy?” Jon asked. 

 

Arya screwed up her face. “I’m not unhappy,” she said finally. “I guess I wanted to know how you were doing. I mean, you left and stayed away and saw other things for years too. Just curious.”

 

She gave her trademark one-shoulder shrug. 

 

Jon sat and really thought about what Arya had done and seen. When she got home he’d been amused and impressed by her guts and the fact that she’d fooled the army into thinking she was a man for years. After the initial shock he’d been awed by the skills she’d mastered. After that it had become… normal. Arya had spent time in the army, now the war was over and she was home. That was that. 

 

But… that wasn’t that, was it? It suddenly occurred to Jon that Arya had likely seen more of the war than even Sandor. She’d been in the thick of it for years, she’d carried messages across lines and had watched her friends die. Coming home to Winterfell, where the neighbors watched her warily and where she was expected to shuck vegetables must make all her effort feel almost wasted. 

 

It was a sobering realization, and Jon wasn’t sure what to do with it. “I want you to be happy,” he said. It was all he could think to say. 

 

Arya punched him lightly in the arm. “Me too. I finished my bowl first, so you have to help with the mucking out tonight!”

 

She rose and carried her peas inside. 

 

Jon smiled to himself. He thought Arya would be just fine.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An extended epilogue.

Arya’s happiness ended up working itself out. One day, as the season’s first snowflakes drifted lazily to the ground, Arya’s man came riding home. 

 

Jon stood with Ygritte and watched as Arya launched herself into the man’s lap. Jon had never seen her like that, all smiles and tears, and it had been a good feeling. He’d felt a circle close that day- the Stark siblings were home, and they were family, all of them. 

 

Jon was relived at his sister’s choice in men. He was comfortable with them and enjoyed their company. They were good men- thoughtful and kind to the women, and dependable when it came to the land. Jon thought their father would have been proud.

 

Christmas came with long, cold nights and drifting, swirling snow. This fine was fine with Jon- he welcomed it, he even enjoyed it. He no longer slept every night in a snow-covered hide hut: Jon slept on a fur-covered mattress curled around his wife. He had a family to laugh with, and he had land that felt like  _ his.  _

 

Sandor and Gendry had cut a fir tree and dragged it into the house. It had been a group effort to decorate it: popcorn was strung and wrapped around it, little knitted snowflakes and stars were hung, and slowly little brown-paper wrapped gifts were hidden among the greenery. Jon and Sandor and Jon had already brought home their gift to the household: a cushioned little sofa that had almost solely become Sansa and Ygritte’s territory. Sansa, seven months gone with her first child, and sunk into it lovingly and had resisted moving ever since. Ygritte’s eyes had gone round and wide, and Jon was reminded of the little girls he’d seen admiring lace gloves in the shop window. 

 

“It’s so pretty,” she’d said, running her fingers gently over the plush velvet. 

 

“It’s pretty and soft, just like you,” Jon had answered. 

 

On Christmas Eve everyone gravitated to the kitchen and great room. Ygritte had announced her intention to draw Sansa a bath, and Jon could tell by the twinkle in her eye that this was not just a Yuletide treat. Arya and Gendry were sprawled in front of the fire, and Sandor was likely wherever Sansa was. 

 

Jon wasn’t bothered by the relationship that had developed between Sansa and Ygritte. He didn’t resent Ygritte’s time with Sansa, on the contrary: sometimes he wished he could join them. Jon had known something like this was coming, after all Ygritte had essentially written threesomes into her wedding vows. 

 

While Ygritte played with Sansa Jon took himself out for a walk. It had temporarily stopped snowing, and every star that had been hung in the heavens was visible. Jon stood there in the darkness of Winterfell and looked up at the sky. 

 

All trappers learned the stars. On some nights the stars were the only way to tell where you were, what direction you were going. And despite everything, the constellations had always brought comfort to Jon. Some trappers said that the vastness made them feel small and insignificant, that their light was cold and distant. Jon understood their point, but he felt very differently. 

 

Once in awhile, when Aunt Cat needed a break, Ned would take old blankets and jugs of cider and all of the children out into the fields. They would lay there in the breeze and look up at the stars. Father had showed them the great bear of the north, Ursa Major, and had said that he could be found every night all year round. He’d tell them stories of heroes and monsters, and how their ancestors had used the stars to sail across the sea. 

 

With Benjen the stars had become even more important. Jon had considered himself too old for stories, but every time he looked into the winter sky he could still remember the tale of Cassiopeia and Perseus and the sea monster sent to punish them. He was comforted by the fact that as long as men could remember they’d stood and looked up at the stars. 

 

Finally he was looking at them from Winterfell. His wife was in the house with his sisters. He was helping to train the horses in the barn, and in a few months he’d help deliver the calves that would bear the brand that had been passed from Stark to Stark to Stark.  Jon walked quietly through the barn, touching velvety noses as he did. 

 

Eventually (when he thought that Sansa  _ had  _ to be done with her bath) Jon returned to the kitchen. He’d timed it just right, for there was Ygritte soaking in the bubbles. She had her hair pinned to the top of her head, but a few strands had tumbled down to curl around her face. 

 

“Did you have fun with Sansa?” Jon asked, hanging his coat and gloves by the kitchen door. 

 

“I always do,” Ygritte said, shifting happily in the warm water. “She looked like fertility goddess all pink and round,” sighed Ygritte with her eyes closed. 

 

Jon bent to kiss his wife. 

 

“Your nose is cold!” she said, laying a damp hand on his cheek. 

 

“I know where I could put it that would get it nice and warm again,” Jon said in a low voice. 

 

“Really?” asked Ygritte. “I accept!” she stood, wrapped herself in a bath sheet, and took off up the stairs. 

 

Jon was frozen in place for a moment or two, and then sprinted after his wife. He caught her in the doorway to their bedroom and tackled her onto the bed. He rolled in a tangle of limbs until his nose (and mouth) were pressed into that soft, warm place that Ygritte enjoyed so much. He knew what she liked now, as he suspected her knew this part of her anatomy better than she did. With her clitoris between his lips Jon slung one thigh over his shoulders, then the other. 

 

“Jon,” she said, breathy with lust, “I want to have a baby.” Ygritte yelped when Jon bit her. 

 

He’d crawled up her in a second. His lips were still shiny with her slick and his fingers were fisted in her hair, tilting her head back to look at him. “What did you say?”

 

Ygritte rolled her neck so that Jon was pulling her hair tighter; she moved against him in a wanton invitation for erotic delights.

 

“I want your baby, Jon Stark. A dark little head at my breast, a boy with grey eyes.”

 

“My babe,” said Jon, wanting to be sure. 

 

“Yes, Jon. A little Stark to grow up with his cousins, to have all of us loving him.”

 

Jon slowly pushed into Ygritte’s wet heat. “You’ll have my babe,” he said, lowering his forehead to rest against Ygritte’s. Jon slowly increased the pace, grinding his hips against Ygritte’s. 

“A little boy who follows his father,” whispered Ygritte, undulating under him. 

 

“A little girl,” said Jon. Ygritte noticed that when he smiled now he had little crinkles at the corner of his eyes.  “A little girl with her mother’s smart mouth.” 

 

“Will you love me when I’m round and heavy with your child? When I need help getting out of bed?”

 

Jon licked up the side of Ygritte’s neck to whisper in her ear, “Who said I’d let you out of it?”

 

Ygritte shivered under him. “I’m going to come,” she said, pinching her own nipples. “Come with me, Jon.”

 

He did, his forehead against hers, his dark eyes staring into her deep blues. “Always,” he gasped. 

 

They lay together, the night air cool in their skin, and listened to the muffled voices of their family downstairs. Sandor’s low baritone could be heard in occasional rumbles. Arya and Gendry were laughing, and Sansa’s voice floated above the rest, holding it all together. 

 

“Merry Christmas,” Ygritte whispered. 

 

“Merry Christmas, love,” Jon said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all who have made it to this point: THANK YOU. Thank you for reading, for supporting one of the less popular AO3 couples. 
> 
> If you'd like to talk about Game of Thrones or Star Wars please look me up! I'm lonelyspacebabies on tumblr. 
> 
> Seriously. The turnout for this fic has been abysmal, so thank you for reading. I really appreciate it.   
> Love,  
> Chris


End file.
